


Witches of Winterfell

by MissEmmanuelle



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - World War I, F/M, Jon Snow is a Targaryen, Necromancy, War, Witchcraft
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-28
Updated: 2017-05-28
Packaged: 2018-11-05 21:31:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11021982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissEmmanuelle/pseuds/MissEmmanuelle
Summary: Sansa Stark is a direct descendant of the old and ancient lineage of the Starks - for thousands of years, magick had been the way of life for the Starks and every single one of those of Stark blood possesses special gifts and abilities. Sworn by oath to use these gifts for good, Sansa vowed to use her life-giving hands to curb the evil that consumed the lives of young men, taking them away from their families.Little did she know how she would save the life of one who mattered.





	Witches of Winterfell

**Author's Note:**

> I saw there was a need to bump up the fic numbers on the JonSa tag soooo... here I am! *waves* Just importing my tumblr fics to here :)
> 
> A quick drabble based on a tumblr prompt:  
> A not so good nurse who is an amazing necromancer, saving lives of young men in World War I  
> * also inspired by the scene of Melisandre praying over Jon*

“Miss Stark! Come in here, we need you! Quickly now!” a voice jolted her out of her drowsiness. She hadn’t had any rest since the booming blasts heard not far away wheeled in dozens of screaming young soldiers, injured, burnt and in agonising pain.

“Anything you need Dr Davos?“ Sansa rushed in to a smaller and more private enclosure of the large medical tent. She stared at the body laying lifeless on the worn canvas stretcher. He looked familiar.

“Hand me that gauze and stop the bleeding as much as you can. He’s losing a lot of blood. We’ve got to save him, no matter what,” the elder gentleman commanded as he took the cotton gauze from her hands and placed it on the gaping wound that was spurting blood. The shells had hit an arterial vein. The gush was bright red and copious. There was no way this young man would live. Even for a terrible nurse that she was, she knew there was no way he would survive it. Still, she followed Dr Davos’ orders.

“Doctor, I don’t think we can stop the bleeding. There are other soldiers out there who need treatment-”

“Miss Stark, do you know who he is?”

Sansa shook her head. She had seen many faces, most of them young and reminded her of her brother Robb and his friend Theon but she hadn’t a clue who the body that laid before her belonged to.

“That’s Jon Targaryen. Grandson of the Duke Aerys Targaryen the Second. Do you know what that means?” Dr Davos asked her again, as he frantically changed the soaked gauze with clean ones. Sansa wasn’t sure yet she understood, that he must be someone incredibly important. More important than the other young men out there, it seemed.

“But Dr Davos… he has no pulse. I’m sorry,” Sansa lessened her grip on the gauze, releasing the wound she was assisting Davos with. More than five minutes had already passed. Jon Targaryen was possibly clinically dead. Davos paused and bowed his head, taking off his glasses. He glanced at the young lady and back to the fresh corpse before him.

“Miss Stark, this man.. This man is the future of Westeros. He has in him dreams that would make our nation great. I know there’s something in you.. I don’t know what it is but I know you can help him. Please, Miss Stark, I’ve seen the soldiers you’ve treated, it’s as if you have the hand that gives life. Do something for this young man. He is important to us, whether you know it or not,” he said quietly, ignoring the commotion and frantic calls for him outside the private space that held the three of them.

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about, Dr Davos. I-I should be returning to the others, they need treatment,” Sansa tried to dismiss the hint of the suggestion that Davos was implying. She was about to take her leave when she felt a gentle grip on her elbow.

“He saved my life once. And I vowed to make sure he’s to return alive and well to his family once all this is over. Miss Stark, please think about it.”

Though the slight waver in his plea seemed earnest, Sansa didn’t look back. She found herself almost running out to tend to a writhing young man who had burns all over him.

It was three in the morning when Sansa restocked the medical supplies. She counted the bottles of iodine and counted them again and again, distracted by the earlier conversation Dr Davos had started with her. She glanced across at the enclosed space of the tent that kept the body of one Jon Targaryen. Dr Davos had ordered all who were on duty to keep out of that space, except for him and herself, to tend to the patient.

Sansa didn’t know what came over her when she decided to cautiously walk over to it and tiptoed inside. The whole tent was silent in the dead of night, save for the occasional groan and quiet sobbing of the patients while trying to sleep through their pain. The scene was of great dire and despair.

Sansa looked at the body and let her fingers linger along the muscular arms that laid stiff at the sides. He was frozen to the touch.

_He saved my life once… He’s to return to his family when all this is over.._

Sansa sighed deeply. Every time, she laid her hands, it took something from her. She wasn’t quite certain what it was but it often left her drained and dizzy and incapable of standing. Ever since she was a child, she was told she had a gift. And they said time and time again, that her gift would change the world.

The Starks were direct descendants of a long lineage of witches. Everyone born of Stark blood had some supernatural ability within them. Arya had the gift of strength; Bran had the gift of vision. She, well, had the gift of bringing back life from the dead. She was warned not to use it often, and only when needed but the death and disease that encamped all around her was too devastating to ignore. She would deal with the consequences when it comes. At that moment, Davos’ plea was the only thing that echoed in her mind. She liked working with him and he had become a sort of father figure to her while she was far away from home and family. If he said it was important, she believed it to be true.

Sansa took the cold wet cotton cloth in the basin of water that was left earlier for washing. She wiped away at the dirt and blood that streaked his face and tucked away the curls that covered his closed eyes. She wondered what colour his eyes could be. Sansa grabbed the medical shears that were in her apron pocket and sliced through the thick fabric he was clothed in. Sansa had to look away from the large hole on his side that greeted her the instant she took off his uniform. She was still not accustomed to the sight of bloody wounds and the white of exposed bones jutting out from their flesh.

Sansa cleaned the dried blood from the wound and dipped her finger onto the red fluid and smeared some of it onto the spot where his lifeless heart had stopped beating. Sansa shut her eyes and began chanting under her breath.

**_There is none other_ **

_**than the great Mother,** _

_**Who gives us life and light** _

_**and who brings the end and night;** _

_**O’ great Mother, you are the one** _

_**to whom we seek and to whom we run;** _

_**I call on your name to give your breath** _

_**back to this vessel claimed by Death** _

_**To return to its former self and might** _

_**I proclaim it with your blessing of love and light** _

Sansa whispered again this time into his ears and gently blew her breath on his face and leaned down to do the same on his wounds and chest. It took her three gentle blows when she felt as if she was knocked hard on her chest by some large force. Sansa stumbled back, suddenly feeling exhausted and her heart racing. Sansa inhaled deeply and clung onto the stool in the form of a large wooden stump, that stood beside the stretcher. Sansa willed herself to sit up and regain her composure. It got harder every time she did it. But she was determined to stand by her decision. If this man was really who Davos said he was, then perhaps, she had made a difference.

Sansa watched Jon intently, her insides stirring, as if ominous that it was about to happen any moment. Sansa gently thumbed along Jon’s arms again and hoped that this man would really be someone she could trust her hopes and dreams with.

A sharp gasp for air startled her, almost made her lose balance off her seat as Jon started to heave and huff to draw in air to revive his once dead body. Sansa stood up to face him. Jon’s eyes fluttered open to stare up above him. His dark grey eyes darted to her in a state of panic and fear.

“Shhh.. Mr Targaryen. It’s all right. You’re fine now, you’re in the medical tent and treated for your injuries,” Sansa assured him gently, her eyes roamed towards his open wound that had shrunk to a small hole. Jon’s eyes drifted to her direction and felt with his hands where the hole was.

“But I, I was shot.. There was an explosion… My men, they were.. Who are you?” Jon opened his mouth to speak, his speech slurred but audible. He winced as he tried to get up but Sansa gently pushed him back to lay down again.

“Gently, Mr Targaryen. You’re just recovering and you.. You need to rest. My name is Sansa Stark, your attending nurse.”

Jon was still confused and his pained facial expression made her want to embrace and comfort him. She wasn’t quite sure why.

“Now, Mr Targaryen, I would sug-”

“Jon, please call me Jon,” Jon interrupted, his breathing now steady and his revived heart establishing a somewhat normal pace. His dark grey eyes that hovered on her was somehow unsettling to Sansa. She suddenly felt a hot flush spreading to her cheeks.

“Jon. I would suggest that you rest till the next morning. Your tired body needs it. If you need water or food, I shall get it for you. But please, promise me you will stay here till the morning? Till I come get you?” Sansa asked, not realising her hand planted firmly on his heaving chest. Jon grabbed her hand in his and Sansa almost let out a small whimper. Why did this man have an effect on her? What was it about him that made her feel things she never felt before?

“Yes, Miss. But you have to promise me that you’ll do me one thing. Please find out for me if my men are all right and well. I won’t be able to live with myself not knowing. I have their families to answer to. Please, Miss. These young men are sons who have fathers and mothers who miss them. I promised I would look after them.”

Dr Davos was right. She felt it in her heart that this Jon Targaryen was someone undeniably important. And special. His dark eyes shone with a deep ferocity she had never encountered before. Her senses tingled every time they made eye contact and goosebumps pimpled her skin. To Sansa, it seemed peculiar yet exhilarating. His now warm skin mingled with her own as he held on to her hand that was still on his chest.

Sansa nodded and pulled her hand away reluctantly. She kept her shears back in her pocket and handed Jon a blanket. The night was cold and his current weakened state would still be vulnerable to the elements. Sansa smiled and turned to leave.

“Miss Sansa.”

“Yes, Jon?” Sansa turned back to him. She felt glued to the spot, there was something about him that was pulling her in.

“Thank you. Whatever you did, thank you. I owe you my life and I will forever be indebted. My family and I.”

Sansa was truly blushing now and wished the lamp that was lighting the tent did not make it conspicuous.

“It is my duty and I’m glad that you’re alive, Jon. The doctor will tend to you in the morning when you’re up from your bedrest.”

Jon nodded his agreement, his eyes never once left hers.

“Sansa.. It’s a pretty name. I’ll remember it for as long as I live. Good night, Sansa.”

A sudden urge to leap onto him and kiss him came over her, but Sansa bit down hard on her lip and merely nodded shyly to Jon, who now wore a gentle smile on his face. Gone were the pain and panic. He looked like a true gentleman.

_I’ll always remember you, too,_

Sansa thought to herself. She gave him a smile, bid him goodnight and stepped out of the tent, hoping to find Dr Davos. She had never wished for morning to come sooner than ever.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay I tried lol sorry
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> My tumblrs: jonsaforlife & jonsa-creatives


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